


Across the Airwaves

by mia6363



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia6363/pseuds/mia6363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I said that I might have—sort of accidentally—engaged in phone sex with Hannibal Chau.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across the Airwaves

The party went on for a long time. Newt figured it would, since it was celebrating the fact that the world didn’t end and, oh by the way, they were the ones that saved it. Newt and Hermann had their arms around each other the entire night, doing shot after shot until even Newt had to admit that even the kings of the party should rest. 

“There is a sixty percent chance that I will throw up.” Hermann was using Newt as his cane because Newt talked him into lending it to him for the night to make some ‘creative modifications.’ Hermann hiccupped. “Seventy-five.” 

Newt grimaced as he opened Hermann’s door for him. 

“Come on, buddy. Fight the numbers.” Hermann shook his head. Newt smiled. “We’ll get some water in you and you’ll sleep it off and hate me in the morning.” 

Newt sat Hermann on the bed before getting him a glass of water. Hermann drank it and when he pulled away from it, he grumbled.

“You know I don’t hate you.”

Newt smiled, holding onto Hermann’s cane. 

“I know. I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early, soldier!” 

Hermann tried to salute but missed his forehead. Newt laughed and left, shuffling across the hall to his own quarters. He opened the door and almost fell over because of the _revolting_ smell that drifted out of his room. He saw footprints, and the smell—it was familiar. 

_Kaiju guts._

Panic raced through Newt’s veins that cut through the alcohol like a hot knife through butter. A rational part of his brain knew, it _knew_ that all the Kaiju were dead, and the portal was closed—but the smell, the blue globs on the floor—what if, what if it _wasn’t over_ —

“You better have a shower with decent water pressure, kid.” 

The fact that Hannibal Chau was somehow in his quarters on a government base should not have been a cause for immense relief. 

“Uh, it’s okay, I guess?” Newt took some time to get a good look at the gangster. His clothes were ruined, and some red blood mingled with the blue. Still, when Hannibal took off his dark glasses he still looked like he could move mountains. “I, uh, I totally thought you were dead, dude.”

Two gold tipped shoes were on Newt’s floor, one clean, the other dirty and caked with Kaiju remains. Now that the adrenalin was fading, the alcohol was kicking back in. Newt felt sluggish as he sat on his bed and pulled out a silver sharpie, staring at Herman’s cane, waiting for inspiration. 

When he looked up because he remembered that _Hannibal Chau was in his room_ , his eyes widened because Hannibal had taken off his shirt, revealing some nasty looking wounds from Kaiju teeth, and was about to unbuckle his belt. Newt looked back down at the cane, pointedly keeping his eyes there when he heard Hannibal’s pants fall and the shower turn on. 

Newt distracted himself by drawing on Hermann’s cane, sketching out a Kaiju on one side, but not forgetting numbers and things like Phi that would make Hermann smile. 

“By the way,” Hannibal’s voice made Newt look up, having forgotten that Hannibal was naked and in his shower like that was a normal thing a human could be doing, “congratulations.” 

The thing about living in cramped space is that there was no privacy whatsoever. Newt wasn’t expecting to have visitors, and not those that would shower—and if any expense could be spared it would be. So he had no curtains, or bathroom door for that matter. 

Newt wished he could blame the alcohol for following the trails of water down Hannibal’s body. His eyes darted over the subtle but definitely there muscle and small tattoos that no doubt meant something. That, and the fact that his cock was… impressive. Seriously, Newt was actually jealous of whoever got to suck, fuck, or be fucked by that dick because seriously, even flaccid, it was… intimidating. 

Newt realized he’d been staring and he ripped his eyes away from Hannibal’s dick to instead focus on Hannibal’s eyes. Because that was polite. Staring at dicks: not polite. He swallowed and hoped that maybe Hannibal didn’t notice his staring, his eyes locked with Hannibal’s. 

Hannibal smirked at him. Newt felt his face heat up immediately but he forced himself to play it cool, like he hadn’t just been admiring Hannibal Chau’s penis. 

“Congratulations for,” Newt swallowed, “what?” 

Hannibal grinned, all gold teeth shining at Newt. 

“For saving the world.” Hannibal pointed, drops of water falling off his big arm to the floor. “I got you somethin’.” 

Newt looked at the direction where Hannibal was pointing to see three bottles of champagne. He got up, popping a bottle open and drinking straight from it. He heard Hannibal laughing, a deep rumble, like a not-so-dormant volcano. 

By the time Hannibal was done with his shower, Newt had finished two bottles and was looking at his room, thinking he was never going to get all of it packed by tomorrow. He faded in and out of awareness, and when he came back up from his drunken stupor, Hannibal (who was still only in a towel) and he were sitting on Newt’s bed as Newt rambled.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, man. I mean, it’s been years, it’s been ten years and I’m just… I mean… it’s weird, I don’t know what it’s going to be like not constantly thinking that I’m going to die.” He passed Hannibal the bottle of champagne. “I mean… there’s just a lot I wish I’d gotten to do before the Kaiju, you know? Like… try a dildo or a vibrator.” A weird noise came from Hannibal and Newt looked at him to see Hannibal cough and swallow some champagne. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to, you know? Because human sexuality is so fluid and everything should be explored, at least, for me. I’d like to explore, but you can’t exactly do that when you’re trying to save the world. And now it’s all about rebuilding. Not exactly a time for dildos and vibrators.”

Newt pouted. It really wasn’t fair. He was nudged and Hannibal was passing him the bottle again. 

“Where will you be headed, doc?” 

“New York City. There’s some government housing and stuff there,” Newt sniffed. “Hermann will be there, too… it’s just going to be…”

He didn’t want to say it out loud. Not in front of Hannibal, who probably couldn’t care less. 

It would feel… empty. The Kaiju were gone… and sure, Newt has six other doctorates, but what does that matter _now_? He even worried about Hermann because it wasn’t like he could just go back to a teaching job or something like that. They had nothing to go back to… no one to go back to.

Newt swallowed and it hurt. He glanced at his empty suitcase that had been with him for ten years.

“I should… pack.”

Newt blinked and just like that, he was out like a light. Everything went black. He vaguely remembered wondering if Hannibal would let himself out or not, and then he was asleep. 

His alarm had been set for six-thirty when he’d woken up. He grimaced and hit it, then bolted upright because he’d fallen asleep without showing Hannibal Chau— who wasn’t dead—out of his room, and he’d _forgotten to pack._

His heart thudded in his chest, only to see his suitcase closed and his closet bare. When he opened the suitcase, all his clothes had been neatly folded inside. 

He made it to the choppers on time and Hermann was there, waiting for him. Newt presented him with his new cane. Hermann tried to act like he was exasperated, but Newt caught the smile hidden underneath. 

::::

Their chopper stopped in London first. Newt and Hermann stayed at the landing pad, Herman’s hand tight on the top of his cane. They had a three-hour break before they were back in the air and heading toward America. 

Home. Well, their new home.

When the chopper landed, it was two-thirty in the morning EST, and Newt was emotionally and physically exhausted. They passed over the city and it hit Newt like a sledgehammer to the chest. 

He’d lived there, in the city, before the Kaijus came, and he remembered the sights, the towering buildings, the noise—but passing over it… it was silent. Hollow. 

They landed on a newly constructed building and the pilot gave them their keys, said it was full of other people “just like them,” and then the helicopter was gone. Their ration cards were heavy in their pockets with the markings for “privileged portions” inscribed on them. 

Hermann lived two doors down from Newt, an empty room between them. 

Newt opened his door, expecting the bare minimum inside. He flicked on the lights and his mouth fell open.

Boxes upon boxes waited for him inside. No return address, nothing except Hannibal’s insignia. A large bed frame with solid posts and a pillow-top mattress waited for him with goose-feather pillows on top. He smiled for the first time since being in America and opened the boxes to see canned food; nothing extravagant, just the same cans the rest of the people were getting in the rations. Rice, beans, and pasta, the bare essentials. 

Newt sat on his bed, holding a can of beans and smiling slightly—and that was when he saw the last box. 

It was tucked in the corner, so that Newt wouldn’t see it unless he was sitting on his amazing mattress. It was almost like it had been placed there so that he would open it last. 

Newt got it and pulled it onto his lap, sitting on the bed, and ripped through the cardboard.

His eyes widened.

Six dildos rested inside, each one representing a color of the rainbow with red being the smallest. There were two big bottles of lube, one standard, the other claimed to “enhance sensation,” and there were a handful of little bottles that were different flavors.

At the very bottom of the box was a phone, one of those high-tech kinds that Newt never trusted himself not to break.

His cheeks burned but he was grinning. He had a renewed energy. He stripped off the sheets, laid down some towels and washed his hands. 

Newt was a scientist, and he’d never had anything in his ass before, so he figured the red, smallest dildo as the best bet. He stuck to the regular lube and coated his fingers. He started on his knees and reached behind himself… slowly pushing his index finger inside—

“Oh God.” Newt’s glasses jerked as he pushed his forehead against the mattress. “Oh fuck.” 

It felt… strange. Different. Obviously, he’d never done this before. For the past ten years, all he’d have time for was a quick tug before falling asleep. Now he had time… now… 

Now he was ready for two fingers. Newt swallowed. Sweat clung to his brow and temples as he tried to even out his breathing. His chest felt tight, but it was good. His legs were shaking… but it was _good_. Newt felt stretched, and when he added a third finger, his mouth parted, wet against the mattress, and he groaned. He hadn’t found his prostate yet—at least, he didn’t think he did—but it was probably because his fingers couldn’t reach. 

His eyes slid to the red dildo next to him. He pulled his fingers out, a moan hiccupping out of him. His fingers were already sticky with lube, but he figured it was better to be safe than sorry. He lubed up the dildo, not caring when some of it dripped onto the towel. He lay down on his back, took a deep breath, and gently pushed it inside of him.

“Shit—shit, oh _fuck_ —”

It was… it burned, but only a little. It was full, Newt wasn’t used to feeling so… so full. His breath clung to the sides of his lungs. He wiggled his hips a little, his mouth falling open because whoa. 

His cock was half hard and he clenched down on the dildo, spots appearing on the back of his eyelids when he squeezed them shut and wrapped his fingers around his erection. 

Newt arched his back, his breath falling from him in soft, shallow sobs. His glasses were askew and his legs were quivering, his thighs shaking as he squeezed his erection desperately. His ass hit the mattress and the dildo pushed inside him, and Newt’s eyes flew open as he came.

When he could finally feel his fingers, he pulled the dildo out, whimpering as it left his body. He shivered on the towel… and that was when his new fancy phone rang. 

Newt sniffed and adjusted his glasses as he tried to tap the screen, but nothing was working. He grimaced, shaking the phone and then screamed in frustration. 

“Fucking pick up, answer, _answer_!” And it must have been voice activation only because the line picked up. Newt swallowed. “Hannibal?”

_“Who else would it be, kid?”_ A rumbling chuckle came over the phone and Newt blushed like he was a thirteen-year-old kid again, hoping to get a kiss. _“I see you found my box of special presents.”_

Newt sputtered.

“How did you—?”

_“I can hear it on your voice.”_ Newt did sound a little wobbly and hoarse. _“So tell me, was it what you were hoping for?”_

Newt’s Adam’s apple bobbed and his throat clicked when he tried to come up with an eloquent response. If it had been anyone else asking, he would have blown the question off, but this was Hannibal, a man who didn’t mess around. All of Newt’s breath rushed out in a laugh.

“Yeah. Yeah it was.”

Hannibal laughed with him and Newt felt giddy as he lay back down, relaxed. 

_“Good, kid. That’s good to hear.”_

::::

Getting assimilated into the colony of survivors in New York City wasn’t a total breeze, but it was better than Newt had been preparing himself for. The kids were happy for new faces. The adults though, the ones who heard the helicopter stop and go—they knew who they were dealing with. Hermann and Newt stuck close together and didn’t say much, just nodded at the itinerary and community duties. 

When they presented their ration cards, they were identical to the average citizens because Newt and Hermann had scraped off the special markings with spoons earlier that morning. 

Newt didn’t like the way the community leaders (one of them was called Rick and Newt tried not to laugh at the cliché of a name like _Rick_ ) looked at Hermann and his cane—like they were measuring up his worth. 

But, they weren’t run out of town and their apartments weren’t set on fire. Newt figured it was a win.

::::

Newt had been working his way up to the yellow dildo, and he was excited because it was glass with a yellow spiral up the center of it. It felt cold against his hand, and he didn’t like any of the lube flavors, so he went for the “enhanced sensory.” 

Newt’s eyes rolled in the back of his head because _okayyeahthatwashisprostateholyshit_. Newt’s brain… it felt like he was melting. The contrast of the cold glass compared to his hot body—he couldn’t breathe, it felt so good, he was so close, and he hadn’t even touched his cock—he was almost there—

His phone rang.

Newt’s vision was blurry and he saw the screen was lit up… and he knew Hannibal wasn’t the kind of man who liked being ignored. Newt took a deep breath.

“A-Answer.” The phone clicked and before Hannibal could speak, Newt spit out the words. “U-Um, Hannibal, buddy, it’s not like I don’t like hearing from you, but I’m a little… um… _busy_.”

He wanted to add “if you know what I mean,” but the way his voice cracked on “busy,” told Hannibal all he needed to know. Newt panted, his body throbbing—and that was when Hannibal spoke. 

_“I’d like to stay on the line.”_ Newt swallowed and he thought that it would freak him out, such a request—but he was so horny, so close, and just hearing Hannibal’s deep voice… he had to bite his tongue to swallow down a desperate moan. _“If you don’t mind, kid.”_

It was crazy, absolutely crazy—Newt could hear his sensible side (who sounded oddly like Hermann) screaming at him that such a request wasn’t normal. 

But Newt was so hot—so desperate—

“Yeah, sure, I don’t mind, uh, so you want me to, um—”

_“Show me how much you like my gifts, Newton. A well-liked gift is always a good thing,”_ Hannibal paused, and when he spoke again his voice sounded even deeper, and tighter. _“Which color are you on?”_

“Y-Yellow. The yellow one.” Newt reached down to twist it inside him, brushing it over his prostate. “The others, the others—I couldn’t find my prostate, not with those ones and—and I didn’t like the flavored lubes, sorry—”

_“It’s okay,”_ Hannibal chuckled a little. _“Keep going.”_

Newt swallowed and nodded, even though Hannibal couldn’t see him. 

“Okay. Um… I’m using the enhanced lube… it’s good, it’s strange, it’s tingly—that makes it sound stupid but… that’s what I feel. And, it’s cold, the glass—I like the glass the best—and it feels,” Newt sobbed because it kept pressing against his prostate and his cock twitched and he wasn’t even touching it, “Hannibal, it’s so _good_ —”

He wanted to talk more, he _tried_ to talk more, but his body seized and his cock jumped— _untouched_ —and he was coming. His breath hitched, a high pitched cry sticking in his throat and his whole body was twitching around that lovely yellow glass. 

He was so out of it, his chest heaving, that when Hannibal spoke over the phone Newt jumped, his heart thudding in his chest. 

_“Mm… well, I’m glad you’re having fun, kid.”_

When Hannibal hung up, Newt barely noticed. He took off his glasses and wiped his forehead, still twitching around the glass dildo. 

“Holy shit.”

::::

Hermann’s hands slipped into the water and he almost lost his balance in the Hudson River. 

“W-what did you say?”

Hermann’s cheeks were red and some water splashed up onto Newt’s glasses. Newt clung to the laundry of Ms. Shephard because it was laundry day and Newt and Hermann drew the short straw. Newt’s hands were cleaning some green bloomers that could be doubled as a parachute as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“I said that I might have—sort of accidentally—engaged in phone sex with Hannibal Chau.” Hermann’s eyes were wide and sort of judgmental and Newt rolled his eyes. “Quit looking at me like that, come on, and don’t oppress a man’s sexuality—”

Hermann rolled his eyes and went back to his task at hand on a thick pair of work pants. 

“Shut up, you know it’s not about that.” Hermann sat along the edge, long past caring about whether or not his pants got dirty. “It’s not that he’s a _man_ , Newton. He’s a _criminal_. A rather large one.” Newt must have gotten a look on his face while he remembered staring at Hannibal’s _rather large_ cock. Hermann scowled. “Not like _that_ , you imbecile. I mean he’s somebody—he’s got a name that people know.”

Newt groaned, not entirely unhappy. Maybe a little turned on even as he washed sweat-stained pants and undergarments. 

“I know, I know.” 

Hermann shook his head. 

“Just be careful,” Hermann chanced a glance at his friend. “You don’t always have to risk your life in order to be a rock star.” 

Newt grinned and grabbed at the next batch of clothes. 

::::

A new box was waiting for him and inside was a smooth vibrator and more enhanced sensation lube. A note written in smooth ink leaned up against the vibrator. 

_Get yourself prepped and ready, but don’t use your new toy until I call._

Hannibal’s symbol rested below it. Newt shivered and prepared the bed. He’d been using the toys so often… it was easy, sliding three fingers in with the lube coated, and he sighed; it was the perfect ending to a long day. 

He fucked himself lazily with his fingers, the new vibrator lying next to his free wrist. 

By the time the phone rang, Newt was more than ready.

“Answer.” 

Newt had time to take a breath before Hannibal spoke.

_“All right, kid, I know you’re dyin’ to try it out.”_ Newt practically squealed, he was so ready for it, and he pushed it inside him quickly, enough to make him gasp for breath. _“Easy, easy, kid, don’t hurt yourself.”_

“I can take it,” Newt sucked in a breath. “I—I can take it.”

Hannibal chuckled and Newt closed his eyes, getting used to the feeling of it inside him, his cheeks burning. 

_“Don’t turn it on yet.”_

The switch, well, a tiny button, was on the bottom. Newt’s fingers kept brushing it, not pushing it, but wanting to, oh, wanting to so badly. After a minute of silence Newt squirmed, telling himself that the whines he was emitting were manly whines. 

“Come on, Hannibal, _please_ —” Newt ankles dug into the mattress because the silence on the other end, it was driving him crazy. “Please, please, _please_ —”

Newt’s voice broke off, turning into a desperate whine that couldn’t hold any language, only broken, wet sounds of desperation. He almost didn’t hear Hannibal take a breath. 

_“Go for it.”_

Newt’s finger couldn’t move fast enough, the vibrator was angled right, it was pressing _right there_ and his finger pushed on the button and—

German was torn from Newt’s mouth—he hadn’t spoken it since he was a child, and only sparingly when around Hermann—but it came flying out. Swears, promises to any deity that came into Newt’s mind. His hand shook, skidding over his soft stomach, trying to get to his dick as fast as it could—and he squeezed himself once—and it was over.

His cheek was pressed against the mattress, his mouth still forming around German words, hoarse strings of gratitude falling from his lips. The vibrator was still buzzing and it made his skin jump. He shakily removed it, switching it off.

_“Christ,”_ Hannibal’s voice sounded thick, heavy, and Newt’s eyes drifted shut. _“What language was that?”_

Newt swallowed, still focusing on his breathing. 

“German.”

He could hear Hannibal’s smile and envisioned those gold teeth, imagining Hannibal was in his room and not Hong Kong. 

_“You’re just full of surprises, kid.”_

Newt smiled, the sweat cooling on his skin. 

“So,” Newt giggled, “how was your day?”

Hannibal laughed with him, and Newt was surprised when Hannibal actually answered. He shared safe information, about botched pancakes, a greedy dealer, and the bustling streets of Hong Kong. Newt talked about laundry and how water currents are kind to those who need a cane. 

That night, Newt slept better than he had in years. 

::::

Newt and Hermann had an unspoken agreement to rarely speak about what they had done during the war. But when they were needed, they came. And Hermann had to help design a building that was going to a schoolhouse, because exact math is needed for a job like that.

Newt’s hands stung because he was laying down brick, something he’d never done before. He worked from morning until dusk, and by the time the bell finally rang to stop, Newt thought he was going to pass out.

“Newton—Newt, why didn’t you call off?” Newt groaned, his face and back sunburned and his hands rubbed raw from all the bricks. Hermann, whose right shoulder Newt had thrown his arm over, was carrying him. “For God’s sake, you look like you’re going to keel over.” 

They shuffled their way back to the government housing and Newt tried not to move his hands because even the slightest twitch stung. 

“I don’t like the way they look at us, Hermann. Like we’ve got nothing to offer.” 

Hermann scoffed, but his usual confidence wasn’t behind it. 

“No one looks at us like that.” 

They shared a can of beans at Hermann’s place. 

::::

That night, Newt collapsed onto bed, his hands held out so they didn’t hit the mattress. He pulled up the sheets right as the phone rang. Newt sighed and closed his eyes, pushing the phone onto the pillow.

“Answer.” The line picked up and Newt sighed against the pillow. “Hannibal, it’s been the worst day and I can barely move my fingers so our,” Newt swallowed, not sure how to label what it they’d been doing for the past few weeks, “um… call probably will have to be cut short.”

Newt expected a click, maybe for Hannibal to be annoyed. He didn’t expect the conversation to continue.

_“What happened, Newton?”_

“Eh,” Newt spoke in the dark, savoring the pillow-top mattress beneath him. “Worked with bricks today. I’m pretty sure all my fingerprints are gone. And fun fact, it’s totally possible to get sunburns when you have tattoos.” Newt snuggled closer into the pillow. “I haven’t felt like this since my third dissertation. I didn’t sleep for a week… and I’m pretty sure I threw up because I was dehydrated.” 

Hannibal made a strange noise over the phone.

_“Don’t work yourself to death.”_ Newt grunted, too tired to put up an argument. _“Workin’ too hard, that’s for chumps. Last time I worked hard was in grade school.”_

Newt laughed quietly because trying to imagine a young Hannibal who wasn’t a towering wall of intimidating muscle was impossible. 

“Oh yeah? What did you do? Waiter?”

Hannibal chuckled. 

_“Nah.”_ He paused, and his voice got softer. _“I sold protection. All those geeks and nerds who got beat up, they’d give me their money instead, and if I couldn’t beat up the guys giving them problems, I’d take the hits for them.”_

Newt remembered replying, but he couldn’t remember what he said. All he knew is that he woke up hours later with drool on his pillow and his phone flashing a low battery warning. He was given the day off that day, and slept all day. 

The next time he woke up, he had a new package, already opened. Inside were salve, bandages, and a note that said: _Use it_.

::::

Two weeks after the salve care package, Newt’s hands were one-hundred percent healed (Hannibal asked about them every phone call), and he had a package waiting for him. He cut into the box and when he saw what was there… it made his throat run dry.

Anal beads, rope, and a book on knots. 

Big, navy blue, anal beads. Black nylon rope, and an informative book on tying knots. The note accompanying it said: _Wait for my call_.

Newt’s heart was pounding and he waited on the bed, foot bouncing and healed fingers twitching until _finally_ Hannibal called.

“Answer, Hannibal, um—”

_“Relax.”_ Hannibal was grinning, it saturated his voice. _“Calm down and listen to me.”_ Newt forced his foot to stop bouncing. _“Are you listening?”_

“Yes.”

_“Good. Look, kid, this is what I want you to do. Nothing is going to happen tonight. Or tomorrow. I want you to go about your day… without touching yourself. And I’ll tell you when I’m ready for you to use your new present. But until that time you don’t use any of the little goodies I got you.”_ Newt’s blood roared in his ears. He blinked, wondering if he was dreaming. _“Is that… okay with you?”_

Newt had a feeling he was being asked something different. That it wasn’t just about whether or not he could hold out. Newt swallowed… closing his eyes. 

“I can do that.”

The pleased rumble from the phone made Newt’s dick twitch and his heart stutter in his chest. 

_“Good, that’s really good, kid.”_

::::

Five. 

Fucking.

Days.

Hannibal made him wait _five days._ Five days of working hard, five days of sweat, dirt, and grime, with no relief. Hermann snapped at him for being, “so bloody jumpy,” and Newt knew Hermann was right. He was so wound up he was admitting that Hermann was right. 

He practiced tying knots like it was a religion. Finally, he got a call on the sixth morning. 

“Hannibal, please—”

_“Tonight you’re going to prep, you need to be comfortable with four fingers at least. You’ll put in the beads, get dressed, and tie your wrists to the bedposts. Use a knot you can get out of.”_

Then the fucker _hung up._

It was the longest day of Newt’s life, and once it was over, he ran all the way home to kick off his clothes and coat his fingers in lube. He had the anal beads out and ready as he easily slid two fingers inside of himself. It knocked the breath out of him because it had been _five days_ of nothing. 

“Oh fuck, oh… oh _fuck_.” 

It was agonizing, knowing that he could only prep, could only tease, and had to wait for Hannibal before he could do anything. He worked his way up to four fingers and his whole body was hypersensitive. He’d left his shirt on and the fabric rubbed against his nipples, sending tiny jolts of pleasure down his spine. 

Newt had to stop for thirty seconds before he touched the anal beads, grateful that the first bead was the smallest one. He pushed it in and it was disappointingly small compared to his fingers. He kept going, making sure to take it slow—and oh yes, the more that went in, the fuller he became. His glasses were fogged and the beads, they were pressing all the places _around_ his prostate. 

Newt tried to breathe evenly… but it kept coming in uneven bursts. He reached for his pants and had get up and bend over to get them—and the beads rolled right over his prostate. 

His knees buckled and hit the floor hard. He didn’t even feel the pain, his entire body seemed to be clenching down around the beads, and a muffled shout left him when they shifted, pressing _around_ his prostate once more. His legs shook and he was just able to get his legs into his pants. His hands shook with his belt, and when he was done, he almost cried with relief. 

The next thing he had to do was get the rope ready. He sat on the bed, his body still humming because the beads shifted with his every movement. He looped the long rope around the bedposts and gave himself plenty of room, so that his wrists would only be suspended a little. Newt assumed that Hannibal just wanted to draw it out, maybe talk dirty to him.

Newt shivered at the thought and quickly made sure that the phone was nearby before he tied up his wrists, pulling the last rope with his teeth. His chest heaved and his glasses were beginning to get foggy. 

He stayed like that, throbbing around the beads, for three minutes before the phone rang. 

“Oh, God, _answer_.” The phone picked up and Newt sucked in a quick breath. “I did it, I did everything you said, please—please it’s too much—”

_“You sound good when you beg.”_ Hannibal, that fucker was _smiling_ while Newt was halfway around the world losing his mind. He twisted against the ropes, gasping as the beads twisted with him. _“Feelin’ a little wound up?”_

Newt let out a desperate moan that awkwardly mixed with a laugh, because Hannibal had no idea, and he was about to retort—when he heard someone at his door. They turned the knob, and it stuck when it wouldn’t open because Newt always locks it. 

Newt froze… holding his breath—and then the knob started turning, the lock failing—and Newt began to panic, his heart hammering.

“Hannibal, Hannibal someone is here—shit, shit—”

Newt desperately threw himself to the rope closest to him but his teeth missed it. Large footsteps were coming closer and Newt was going to die humiliated, horny, and alone. 

“Relax, bub.” Hannibal’s massive form was _there_ , and he clicked his phone and hung up. Newt felt like he was losing his mind. “It’s just me.”

He still stood still, at the far end of the room, watching Newt writhe on the bed, and Newt thunked his head back against the pillow.

“Come on, get _over_ here, I’m going crazy, please—”

If Newt knew all he had to do was ask, he would have begged as soon as Hannibal came through the door; Hannibal was on him. His big hands were tracing over Newt’s body, his shirt, and the prominent bulge in his pants. Newt felt like he was spinning. He was dizzy with _need_ , and when he opened his eyes, Hannibal was holding his knife. 

Hannibal paused, looking at Newt. Newt talked himself through it internally, figuring that Hannibal would have to go through a lot of trouble if he liked to make his enemies horny beyond belief before slicing them up. Hannibal smiled, he must have liked what he saw, because then he was pulling Newt’s shirt with one hand and slicing through it with the other. It was such a quick movement of the blade, and suddenly Newt was free from his shirt, the cold knife not once touching his skin. 

There was a brief pause and Newt squinted, the fog taking over his glasses, but he saw Hannibal staring at him—at his tattoos. It had slipped Newt’s mind that Hannibal didn’t know about them—and then, and then _oh_ , Hannibal’s tongue, he was licking up his tattoos, up the hours under the needle it took for them to get it just right. His teeth grazed Newt’s nipple, his thumb rubbing the other and Newt threw his head back, his hips jerking upwards. 

“You’re loud,” Hannibal’s voice seemed to swim through Newt’s veins. He smirked against Newt’s skin and cut away at his pants. He clipped his pants and underwear—and Newt didn’t have time to be body conscious because Hannibal’s fingers were resting at his hole, his other hand resting centimeters away from his cock. “I like that.”

That was the only warning Newt got before Hannibal slowly pulled the beads out while jerking Newt off, swiping his thumb over his head and pulling desperate pleas from Newt—making him fall back into German. 

He came right as the last of the beads slipped out of his body, and his entire body seized—his heart skipping a beat—and his vision going black, or did he close his eyes?

Newt came to with three of Hannibal’s fingers inside of him. Hannibal had taken off his clothes in the meantime and was gazing down at Newt, his lips pulled back into a golden grin. 

Newt smiled back, feeling light-headed as he watched Hannibal roll a condom on, and somehow Newt was getting _hard_ again just watching Hannibal give him the final prep. Hannibal sucked a bruise on Newt’s thigh, easing one of Newt’s legs over Hannibal’s shoulder. 

When Hannibal pushed inside of him, Newt’s German swearing came right on back, and Hannibal’s face flushed a deep pink and his hips stuttered forward. Newt arched his back, his wrists straining against the rope, German rolling off his tongue. 

Hannibal’s fingers dug into Newt’s hips and the colossal man _shuddered_.

“Sweet Jesus, kid, you’re so… you’re so…”

The fact that Hannibal couldn’t finish his train of thought just made Newt harder, and he goaded him to fuck him harder in German. Even though Hannibal didn’t understand, he obeyed, his hips snapping forward, making Newt’s eyes roll up with pleasure. His wrists sagged against the ropes and Hannibal’s big hand closed around Newt’s cock once more, his grunts sounding slightly desperate—

The second orgasm was pulled from Newt through determination and strength—kind of like Hannibal. Newt’s eyes were small slits; he could barely keep them open, when Hannibal shuddered, his hips coming to a stop inside of him.

Newt was too tired to move, so all he did when Hannibal slipped out of him was whimper and let his leg flop down to the mattress. 

He blinked slowly, and heard Hannibal toss the used condom in the trash, and then he came back with towels, wiping Newt up and untying the knots around his wrist. He moved Newt over and sat with him on the bed while rubbing Newt’s wrists with his hands, easing the circulation back into them. 

Newt pushed himself on shaky elbows, and when his body swayed he looked to see that he was close to Hannibal—his lips were right there—

Newt began to lean in—then aborted the move awkwardly, so awkwardly that he hit his head on the headboard. He clutched the back of his head while Hannibal raised his eyebrows.

“What were you tryin’ to do, kid?”

Newt played it off as not-a-big-deal, hoping it would work for Hannibal.

“Eh, you know, a kiss or whatever, but it’s cool because—I mean, I just didn’t know if you were into that kind of thing—”

Hannibal’s fingers trailed down Newt’s chin and he found himself being kissed. It started off… surprisingly chaste until he ran his tongue along Hannibal’s lower lip. All bets were off and Hannibal dominated Newt’s mouth thoroughly and deliberately, like every nip of his gold teeth at Newt’s lower lip was planned to pull soft whimpers from Newt’s throat. 

Newt broke away for more breath, but ended up yawning instead. 

He broke out into a furious blush.

“Oh my God, I’m not—I’m not bored, I’m so far from bored—”

Hannibal laughed and Newt found himself being manhandled to be lying down, his back against Hannibal’s chest. 

“Relax. You’re tired.” Hannibal’s breath tickled the back of Newt’s neck and the tips of his ears. He felt Hannibal tug the sheets from off the floor and over them, snuggling closer (though Hannibal would say that a man like him doesn’t snuggle). “Go to sleep.”

Newt started to open his mouth to say that he’d need to move to take off his glasses, but Hannibal was doing it for him, gently taking them off and putting them on the bedside table before fitting his arm over Newt’s waist. 

He smiled as his eyes closed and he went to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks for Rendianami for beta-ing this for me. You were so kind to do so, and you caught all my errors and made great suggestions. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this piece... twice as long as my first one. Woo-hoo. I hope everyone was believable in this piece. 
> 
> Criticism and Comments are love!


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